


Ecstasy and Darkness Drips

by captainkaltar



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Body Modification, Experimentation, F/F, Master/Slave, Mind Control, One Shot, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Slavery, yes I made up an AU no I haven't thought about any of the details besides the smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 21:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainkaltar/pseuds/captainkaltar
Summary: "Long ago, she would try and keep time, try and count the vargas between her inspections, measure how long she was left alone in the dark. But that was all in another life. She hadn’t died. She’d had this same body back then, more or less. But she’d been so wrong, so confused, thinking she had a will of her own, a purpose beyond the one she served now."AU where Romelle never escaped the Altean colony. Instead, Haggar captured her and set her aside for some "special experimentation"~





	Ecstasy and Darkness Drips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steelrunner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelrunner/gifts).



“Beginning inspection sequence, attempt number 229.5.”

Counting. Always counting. Always measuring and probing and analyzing. Her eyes snapped open, bright purple light shining into one, then the other, before her mask was lowered and she was plunged back into darkness. Her gag removed, then snapped back in place a dobosh later, dense, heavy rubber ridges weighing down her tongue and pressing at the back of her throat. The buckles that kept her tethered to the wall of her cell removed one by one, the skin underneath checked for bruises and blemishes before she was restrained back in place, arms above her head, legs permanently spread. 

Long ago, she would try and keep time, try and count the vargas between her inspections, measure how long she was left alone in the dark. But that was all in another life. She hadn’t died. She’d had this same body back then, more or less. But she’d been so wrong, so confused, thinking she had a will of her own, a purpose beyond the one she served now. 

Back then, she would have protested this inspection. She would have resisted the claw-like tool running over her collar, pinching the places where it tunnelled under her skin, kept in place permanently and fused to her spine. She would have tried to fight the metal mitts clamped around her hands, rendering them useless unless her mistress had a purpose for them. She would even have cried as her mistress’s fingers personally checked her for defects, flinched at the coldness of her touch. 

But back then, she had been so wrong. 

This was all for her own good. Her mistress needed to inspect her, her body needed to be in perfect condition. She needed to be kept restrained in the dark unless she was being used. She wasn’t good for anything else, her mistress always said. And her mistress was never wrong. 

She shivered in anticipation as cold, long-nailed fingers brushed over her cheeks, along her neck, to the little patch at the back of her head where her hair had been shaved to the scalp. The implant had stung when she’d first woken up and found it there, permanently latched to her skull, the skin around it puffy and twisted. But as time went on, as her mistress tested and re-tested and re-routed the little implant, she’d grown used to that cold stinging sensation at the back of head, grown to miss it on the rare occasions when it was switched off. 

“I really should have fitted you with this sooner, little pet.” The sound of her mistress’ voice sliced down Romelle’s spine, heat pooling between her forced-apart thighs. “No behavioural issues in three movements, quite impressive.” 

She wasn’t allowed to respond, but couldn’t help letting out a long moan at her mistress’ praise and her touch, the sound filling her little cell despite the gag down her throat. 

“What did I tell you about being quiet?” Claws dug into her breast as her mistress grabbed and twisted. “Do you need a thicker gag, is that one not working? Or does that pretty voice need to be numbed for a while?” 

She shook her head, cold sweat seeping from her skin, shaking. Numbing left her with a pile of freezing knife blades where her vocal chords were supposed to be, racking her body with screams she could not produce. 

“That’s what I thought.” The hand on her breast went from clawing to gently kneading, sending threads of pleasure straight to her core. Her mistress’ thumb pressed down on her nipple, on the little metal ring piercing through it. “I had to numb you so many times when you first arrived here, I’d much rather try something new.” She stifled a yelp of surprise as something latched onto her stomach, whirring metallically. 

“Don’t worry, pet.” A hand joined the device on her stomach, tracing along the pale pink markings there. “You won’t be numbed, only used for my latest experiment.” 

Her ears twitched in excitement, only to stiffen in shock a tick later. A throbbing ache in her thighs told her that her bonds were being adjusted, her legs spread even further apart. A sharp, sudden jolt of pleasure told her that her sweet spots were being touched, the ones that ringed her entrance and poked unnaturally above her folds, kept pert and erect by her mistress’ machinations. 

The little metal device on her stomach began to slither on mechanical treads, down over her skin and settling in the fine blonde hairs covering her mound. 

“This part might sting.” Despite the warning, she shivered with pleasure. Her mistress’s fingers were brushing against her sweet spots, the little nubs already coated with slick. She could do this so quickly now, it took so little effort to render her this pliant and eager. 

She was so focused on those long, skillful fingers that she barely noticed the burning sensation against her mound, sharp little pincers probing into her skin, cutting through her flesh and taking root. She could feel pain, but it was nothing compared to her mistress’ fingers first ringing her entrance, her nails catching tendrils of slick, then plunging inside, scissoring fast and rhythmic, sending tremors deep into her system. 

Her breath came ragged and clenched, biting down on the rubber of her gag as something ridged and harsh and so beautifully, achingly familiar joined her mistress’ fingers inside her, laboriously pushing in. Her body pulsed with the vibrations of the toy, her thighs shaking. It was her mistress’ favourite, thick enough to leave her unable to move, long enough to make her stomach bulge like a breeding toy. 

She barely noticed as her mistress’ fingers slipped out of one hole and into the other, filling her with cold, oily gel, spreading her wider and wider. 

“Well done, pet.” Her mistress’ free hand patted her mound, adjusting the new implant rooted there. “How long do you think you can last like this? Should I add another toy for you to play with?” 

Before she had the chance to respond, a smooth, flexible thing began to slip its way up her hole, warmer than the gel she’d been prepped with. It pulsed irregularly, in contrast to the regular, steady pounding of the first toy. 

She couldn’t resist, she couldn’t remain silent in this state, the shaking in her thighs migrating to the rest of her body, straining against her bonds as her climax began to build, to rise and take her over-   
And then it didn’t. 

The toys inside her soldiered on, relentless and unfeeling, her body growing limp. She would have fallen to her knees if she weren’t tethered, bitten her lip if the gag didn’t force her lips apart, looked at her mistress with her widest, most pleading eyes if she weren’t masked and blinded. 

The cell filled with the sound of her mistress laughing. 

“Success! Oh, sweet little Romelle, success!” 

She tilted her head in confusion. What had merited the use of her old name? It was reserved for only the most special of occasions. 

“Another part of you I could not control, conquered!” Her mistress stroked over the new implant. “Unless I turn this off, you’ll never come, no matter how long I leave you here.” 

She made a wordless pleading sound, begging her mistress to stay, turn it off, take it away! But a familiar rushing sound told her she was alone again, with no way to tell where her mistress had gone, when she would return, or what she would do when she came back. She closed her eyes, not that it made any difference, in her dark cell with her dark blinding mask. Another aspect of her, brought under control where it belonged. She was worthless without her mistress’ control, she was nothing. This was her only purpose.

**Author's Note:**

> A present for @steelrunner, for no reason apart from that they're awesome and I never get tired of talking to them about Voltron shenanigans (especially nsfw ones)! 
> 
>  
> 
> This isn't my first time making up nsfw stories, but this is the first time I've posted one to ao3. Huzzah!


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